Youknowwho was riding with me and my tangent ensued when I had a bright idea after my own demise. I think that when I pass away (no rush intended) I shall be burned and boxed as is my request and taped to the hood of my happy red suv with pretty pink duct tape. I insist that the car pass in front of all of my favorite knit shops here in STL. A nice slow drive during which folks will come out and wave their knitting as if to give me a wooly good send off. The giggles led to plans for hand-knit prettiness to cover the box of ashes, something perky and complex if you please. Then I could still go to knit group on Tuesday nights and have a great time. You know, show off your latest and greatest and prop up the lacy covered box against a cup of coffee. I'll go home when it's time and back out again the next week.
Speaking of sad passings, can you believe Dixie Carter died? Awful! I adore Julia Sugarbaker to this day!
My birthday was last Sunday, thanks to those of you who emailed happiness(es). I have never had a birthday where I felt old, or over the hill, or even sad. This one? Freakin' gobsmacked my butt! Kerschplooey. I'm still scraping myself together but delighted that while feeling ancient I am not ensconced in a wooly lace urn cover.

No comments:
Post a Comment